Tim Cronin Poems

O tender breeze of summer's eve
Surrender please your secrets whisper'd softly
Change your rhyme in random time
Who tells the wind where to blow?
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The cicadas are freaking me out
In the cut, hiding to get high before work
And Matt Mason cut corners quickly
Like an acquaintance at Wawa
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Sizzling summer's sailed
And cold clothes comfort little
Seasons signal change, the notice nailed
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Reciev'd promotion
Emotional explosion
'What're they smokin?
Must be jokin'
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(Sang the poet to a friend)
My heart is colder, darker than the depths of space
And far more isolated
My blood runs black unforgiving as asphalt
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Smoked humid morning to death
Reading Neruda, Sa Di
Poetry or philosophy
But a baby bunny spied enjoying grass & breath
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No Sherman to fear
That year
That Georgia
Youth's ear
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Who was it seeking fulfillment
Manifest here now in only rust'd metal, wood, paper scraps
Creating this crossroads of past lost puppies or yard sales of dreams
(The internet before the internet)
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